


How to Handle A Sword

by Felinephoenix



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Authority Figures, Childhood, Feminist Themes, Gen, Gender Issues, Gender Related, Pre-Canon, Princes & Princesses, Swords & Fencing, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-06
Updated: 2007-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felinephoenix/pseuds/Felinephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was inappropriate for a girl to handle a sword like that, but The Instructor couldn't help but cheer on Tenjou Utena.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Handle A Sword

**Author's Note:**

> I got to wondering about Utena's childhood, and specifically, how she learned to fence. So I wrote a fic about it. This is my first Utena fic, so I hope it isn't too horrible. Enjoy!

"Girls shouldn't handle swords like that," The Instructor said to himself, the petulant look on his face polished with a pout.

He knew that some girls could use swords. After all, he had trained a few in the art. Still, just because he had to train the nation's many orphans in the basics of combat (better than letting the unlucky twerps run wild over the countryside, went the reasoning, and at least they learned a useful skill - even if it was a skill that they'd only use on the battlefield) didn't mean he had to like it. Or agree with it. Especially when he'd received orders to start training the young ladies.

There was just something so... un-ladylike about it. Young girls with their hair pulled back, limbs flailing as they tried to dodge their opponents' foils, sweating and shouting and laughing and... he couldn't deny that it looked like they were having _fun_ , but it was still _inappropriate_. Especially when they were paired with friends - especially those of the opposite sex.

He felt these fights always had a tension to them that these children were - thank the Lord - too young to understand. (Well, except the young couple he had found last week, but they were exceptions to the rule. Or so he liked to believe.)

Still, during those fights, there was something disconcerting... something so adult in their jibes, taunts, and moves. It made him nervous. Made him dwell on unpleasant thoughts, like the days when his duelists of times past would come to his door to tell him they had been drafted. Oh, sometimes they wouldn't come bearing bad news - one had even come to announce his placement in a prestigious tournament - but that was a baleful rarity.

This was why The Instructor was fond of Tenjou. She was almost past childhood now, but she had still retained her innocence.

Oh, she was the least ladylike of the lot - he had tried everything he could think of to get her out of the _male_ uniform, to no avail, and he assumed it was only by the grace of God that she hadn't tried to cut her strawberry locks again - but it was rare for The Instructor to have uncomfortable ruminations about Tenjou's impending adulthood. During duels, at least.

At other times, he had many worries about Tenjou. Not the least of which was wondering what kind a man would marry such a... masculine young woman.

During duels, however, there was something about Tenjou that put his many fears to rest. Perhaps it was because Tenjou was a clean fighter. The Instructor admired that - it was a good sign of a student's trustworthiness in adulthood. (Being trustworthy in dueling was, of course, a double-edged sword, but it was a quality The Instructor admired. Perhaps because he was so lacking in it.)

It amused him when he noticed that Tenjou was not prone to backhanded tricks like so many of her peers, no doubt because of her childish notion of becoming a prince.

"Princes don't fight dirty," Tenjou had told The Instructor once, when he had asked her why she refused to stoop to the level of a dishonest sparring partner. She had seemed so earnest then, so certain that she was speaking the truth, that he couldn't bring himself to tell her that most princes _did_ fight dirty - that was often how they became princes, after all.

Perhaps it was her earnest nature and her to all appearances endless optimism that gave him faith in her future. Though it shouldn't, The Instructor knew that too well. There had been many Tenjou Utenas in his years of training. Almost all of them never came home - attacked by the enemy if they were lucky, stabbed in the back by a friend if they weren't. Life taught him that he should except no better for this boy-girl. Even if by some miracle she managed to never lose her nobility (and she wouldn't, he was sure, for no man or woman - or whatever Tenjou was - could live up to an ideal), The Instructor knew the world would be cold and cruel to such a child.

There was no place in the world for a woman who handled a sword like that.

The Instructor stopped pouting, though his arms remained crossed. "Fix your posture, Tenjou!" She turned to him, annoyed, with a pout to match his earlier one. "Talent won't win every duel, Tenjou. You must listen to me and learn how to fight - the _right_ way."

Tenjou huffed, blowing her hair out of her eyes, but there was a determined look on her face as she straightened her posture and took a far less vulnerable stance. It was almost... regal, The Instructor thought, feeling a smile spread over his lips.

Then he returned to his usual scowl. It wouldn't do to show any sign of favoritism among his students. Especially not for a student like her.

Nevertheless, he could mask his pride as he saw a streak of strawberry blur past a larger, more experienced boy. Tenjou Utena had won this duel. The Instructor allowed himself some short, soft, dignified applause.

Everything he knew his long life told him that Tenjou Utena would fail, as the many stubborn idealistic fools before her had failed. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but think - hope - that this one stubborn idealistic fool _could_ make a place in the world for a woman who handled a sword like that.


End file.
